Ravenous

Alessandro furrowed his brow. 'The changeling was doing laundry?'

'No, but it was eating someone who was. The werewolves pulled it off the student and held it until we got there. The changeling was pretty, um, subdued by then. I think the wolves were enjoying themselves a bit too much.'

Lovely. 'Did you manage to get any good information before you turned him to sludge?'

Pierce shrugged. 'He was too afraid to talk.'

It was all Alessandro could do not to bang his head—or Pierce's—on the wall. 'We. Are. Vampires. We make the prisoners afraid. Us.'

Pierce's eyes narrowed. 'Whatever master it served was worse.'

The demon. Demons were the only creatures more feared than vampires. Despite losing a suspect, Alessandro felt a flutter of satisfaction. His emerging theories were holding up.

Omara cut in. 'The changeling's name was Arnault, and there are others of his kind in Fairview. That was all we learned.'

Alessandro frowned. 'What about these others? The police looked for more changelings. We looked as well. None were found.'

The queen shrugged. 'Obviously there are hiding places we missed.'

I should have gone with them on the search, Alessandro thought, but he had been watching over Holly. There had been the demon mouse. He couldn't be everywhere at once.

Then he looked at the splotch on the floor where the changeling had melted. I should have done the questioning.

Frustration chewed at his gut. He had to work harder. Faster.

Just then the double doors to the conference room opened, and the janitor with his cleaning cart entered, followed by Omara's security men. One vampire carried a Shop-Vac.

'I'm done for the evening, gentlemen,' Omara said to her security. 'Finish up here, and then you're free for the night.' She turned to Pierce. 'You can go, too. I think you've done enough damage for one evening.'

The last remark was icy cold. Pierce's eyes flared, anger and shame in competition.

Omara touched Alessandro's sleeve. 'Let's go upstairs.'

She led the way out of the room, crossing the lobby to the elevators. Pierce was left standing alone next to the stain on the carpet.

'Did the changeling say how many others there are?' Alessandro asked. Surely they got something useful out of the discussion? Omara did not get to be queen without knowledge of how these interviews are done.

'No, though it sounded like quite a few.' The elevator doors opened and they got in. Omara pushed the button for the top floor, where she was staying. The doors slid closed.

'So what now?' asked Alessandro. 'Another search? Find another changeling to question?'

'What's the point?' asked Omara softly. 'The wolves captured the changeling, and so it made sense to see what we could learn. But to chase down another? They are barely articulate. Their tolerance for pain is legendary. A waste of time. We need to find their master.'

The elevator doors slid open and they got out. Omara started down the hall to her room, Alessandro at her side.

'I don't understand what happened tonight,' he said. 'When I left you earlier, you were going to question Pierce.'

Omara waved a dismissive hand. 'The affair with the changeling was more urgent.'

'You let Pierce interrogate the changeling.'

'Pierce was here and you were not.'

'So, just like that, you let him deal with the prisoner?'

'I wasn't about to touch the changeling myself. Besides, I knew I could count on John's cruelty. He needed a chance to redeem himself after tonight's little performance with the human.'

She sounded almost—he searched for the right word—indulgent. Not like Omara at all.

Alessandro tried again, frustration making him push. 'But what if he is in league with them? Wasn't that what we were wondering? The tokens, the bleeding ring? Murders?'

Without answering, Omara stopped in front of her door and handed Alessandro the passkey. He swiped it and pushed open the heavy door, holding it for his queen. The balcony doors were open, and the sitting room was cold but fresh. Omara switched on a table lamp, showing expensive, spacious, and utterly anonymous decor. Alessandro entered after her, locking the door.

'Consider this,' he said. 'Pierce's clan is well versed in magic. Someone has been casting summoning spells. If Clan Albion wanted to stage a coup, what better way than to raise an army of changelings and summon a demon to perform their bidding?'

Omara turned, throwing her arms in the air. 'But why? Why would there be an alliance between Albion and a race of hideous mutants?'

Thrown on the defensive, Alessandro raised his voice. 'I can remember when they were your rivals. Albion was bitterly ambitious. Only your superior sorcery stood between them and the crown, and they would have taken your place as ruler had you had faltered for one instant. Do you think they have changed so much since those days? Besides, changelings would never challenge you on their own. They are too few. They have to be working with somebody else.'

'But John Pierce is not capable of any of this. He is pretty, vain, and foolish. A man with a child's need for reassurance. He behaves badly because he wants my love.'

'Earlier tonight you thought he might be the murderer.'

'Earlier tonight I was angry with him.'

'But the Albion clan has always been a problem. I beheaded Pierce's brother for breaking your laws.'

'John would never hurt me. Nor my throne. He adores me.'

There was real anger in her voice. Alessandro stopped, not sure he believed what he had heard. Possessiveness. Protectiveness. She is defending Pierce against me!

A thrum of alarm traveled through him. Pierce was a wastrel, his family a pack of villains. Omara knew that. What is going on here? 'Does he know about the portals?'

'I have not discussed the subject with him. Just the murders.' Omara fell into one of the beige tub chairs that faced the balcony. The position turned her face from Alessandro. 'I do not know how many ways I can say this. John is selfish. He is not, however, a mastermind of evil.'

The vulnerability in her voice shocked him. He stared at her profile, and she stared out at the dark, sparkling night. She loves him, but treats him like a dog. He abases himself in order to wound her, but still seeks her favor. They are engaged in some bizarre, destructive affair. A queen cannot behave this way. Not with the throne in the balance.

His voice grew soft, but cutting. 'Is it possible that one who has walked the gardens of ancient Babylon and has seen the sun rise and set on the pharaohs could stoop so low as John Pierce? The notion is breathtaking, and not in a good way.'

Her tone was glacial. 'Don't criticize me, Caravelli. I've slept with you, after all.'

'But you would still tear my eyeballs out in a human heartbeat if you thought I'd crossed you. You forgive Pierce everything.'

Omara gave him a scathing glare.

After all that the queen had put him through, Alessandro felt a petty thrill of satisfaction. He had found her out. 'You like him. You love him. He challenges you.'

Omara looked away.

Alessandro went on. 'Ancient evil though you may be, you still fell for the bad boy. Perhaps that is why you've promised to share Desire the last times we've met, but never kept that pledge. I am not Pierce. I no longer please you.'

Her profile was marble, yielding nothing. His triumph melted to pity. For all her power and ferocity, Omara had surrendered to a charming smile. That wouldn't be so bad, but Pierce was Pierce. 'You can't afford to lose